Passing judgment on everything

Pausing for thought with a glass of cheap plonk

One thing They teach you on your PGCE is to ‘reflect’. You must be capable of reflecting on your practice and that of others you observe. You develop the art of reflecting, not because this is something which can be taught mind you, but more as a natural part of the process. The first two weeks of my school placement were a blur; I couldn’t tell you what happened now looking back at it. Not in any detail anyway. But I know I survived because I ‘reflected’ on it at the time and became more and more aware of what I was doing in the classroom and what I had to do to get the desired effect from each lesson (i.e., hopefully getting some teaching and learning done!).

It seems appropriate now, as I pause for breath during the Christmas break (the only school holiday which we actually get to enjoy during our PGCE year I’ll have you know), to ‘reflect’ on the last 3 months post-epic life and career change. And as I brace myself for round two (aka spring term) I wanted to catalogue my feelings and experience so far somewhere which is personal to me, and that I can share with friends from a previous life who have been somewhat neglected of late (apologies for this).

When I entered into this I did so with an adventurous spirit, a wealth of enthusiasm, stacks of innovative IT tricks to take into the classroom, and a naivety that I will never again know. We started the course and were told: “This will change you. You will be a different person this time next year”. After much protestation from me about how I’ve only recently learned to really like myself and it would be a crying shame if I were to change, I decided to pack that piece of ‘advice’ into a dark corner of my mind and ignore it for all eternity, sure in my own mind and spirit that nothing will change me now. I am who I am, and that is precisely why I had the courage to leave my old life behind and embark on pastures new.

Being a trainee teacher is a bit like being bi-polar: every hour is different, let alone every day! One lesson you’re up, you’re winning, you’re all having a delightful time and some actual learning is taking place. The next, it’s 15 minutes before all coats are off, bags are out of the way and pens are handed out. Modern teenagers don’t carry their own stationery. Gone are the days when your stationery was something to be proud of and show off at the beginning of every new term.

A few things surprised me about teaching. Best to list them rather than puff them out into a paragraph, we’ll be here all night otherwise and these luxury days of writing for pleasure are few and far between!

1. As mentioned, kids don’t carry pens

2. No matter how warm it is in the classroom, coats are a thing of pride and are not taken off lightly

3. Kids are like pinballs; they cannot stay still

4. They don’t make the connection between school and life after school; school is just something that happens to them

5. A lot of teachers don’t appear to actually like kids

6. Kids are really, really clever, just not in the way you’d perhaps like

7. They remember everything you say. Everything, that is, that isn’t associated with learning

8. Exercise books have a habit of taking mini adventures, at least one will be missing every lesson

9. Kids don’t like writing

10. IT can never be trusted in the classroom

Now that said, you might suspect I had a terrible time. But here’s the thing; kids are funny, if a little reluctant to learn, and most of them have a good heart and a good spirit and they want to get on with you in spite of their moans and groans which suggest otherwise. It’s really easy to get a kid onside, and that’s the only way I eventually managed to teach them anything.

We’re taught that you are not the kids’ friend, and that’s quite right, you aren’t supposed to reach that level of intimacy with them. Having said that, from my experience (brief though it is at the moment) they do want to feel that they can talk to you, and that they have things to talk to you about. Two of my greatest successes came from children being able to talk to me, and I took these little victories, as you must take all victories no matter how small, straight to heart.

I had more than my share of problems, failures and mistakes. But above all, I actually enjoyed the crowd control aka teaching. I never felt out of my depth or like I’d made the wrong decision, and by the time I was stood in their Christmas assembly on the final day of term I was sad to be leaving the kids.

They are mad, bad and dangerous, and they are crying out for a bit of routine and discipline. But they have a sincerity you don’t get from working with adults, a charm which I cannot describe, and I am looking forward to getting to know my next clutch of teens at my next placement in February where I shall not be doing the following:

1. Allowing my scepticism about the system to rule my teaching decisions

2. Not putting the kids into a seating plan of my choosing

3. Wasting time worrying about my lesson plans too much

4. Making assumptions about what the kids already know

5. Taking any shortcuts

6. Putting too much faith in the adults

So here’s to 2012, when I get to apply for real jobs and become a fully-fledged public sector worker. Whatever you have planned for next year, I urge you to take risks and to reflect on everything you do. It is the only way we grow and learn.